


Push To Shove

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Comment Fic, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to respectfully stalk people in peace when angry Turks get in the way all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push To Shove

Marc felt the air rush out of his lungs with an audible "whoosh" when his back hit the brick wall behind the dumpsters. Marian followed close on the heels of his shove, not giving him a chance to step aside, crowding him in. He was shorter than Marc by half a head, but there was no hesitation in his movements, nothing but absolute confidence and an intriguing sort of stealthy grace.

"Listen, you smarmy bastard," Marian snarled at him, fists bunching in the fabric of Marc's jacket as he held him pinned in place. "I'm not sure what your game is, and I don't care. What I do know is you're trouble. Stay away from Roman, do you hear me?"

Marc blinked down at him, taken too much by surprise by the situation - accosted by his ex's boyfriend's father late at night next to a dumpster - to entirely smother a snort of amusement.

"Is Deniz sending daddy dearest now to do his bullying for him? I must say you're both awfully easy to rattle," he drawled. It was only when he saw Marian's light-coloured eyes narrow that he realised that this one was different from Deniz's blustering challenges and fake aggressive smiles, different from the younger Öztürk's threatening glares, which were all too easily stripped to the helpless fear at their core.

This one was dangerous.

There was no space left between them. Marc could feel the warmth of Marian's fists through the layers of cloth, could smell leather and a hint of spices, a whiff of beer on the other man's breath, although he didn't think Marian was drunk, not by a long shot.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll be looking to leave town soonish," Marian said, quieter now, but despite his tone and the stupid cowboy cliché of the words, Marc no longer felt amused.

"Is that a warning?" he asked, equally quietly.

Marian's teeth flashed white in the dim illumination of a streetlight. "No. That's a threat."

Marc felt something spark inside himself in response to that humourless smile; something sly and predatory and wholly instinctive. He brought up his hands, slow enough not to provoke aggression; curled one around the iron grip of Marian's wrist at his lapel and the other smoothly against Marian's cheek. He felt the other man flinch in surprise and smiled, sliding his fingers across the stubble on Marian's cheek. Then he brought his face forward too, cheek moving against Marian's temple, bringing his mouth close to Marian's ear.

"I think it's touching, how you're both trying so hard to keep me from him," he murmured. He felt an unvoluntary shiver pass through Marian's body at the hot gust of Marc's breath against his ear, and smiled. Continuing to caress Marian's other cheek with his fingers, he added, in a voice barely more than a whisper, "I do wonder, though: is it because you're looking out for your son's boyfriend - or because you can't have him for yourself?"

Marian froze. For a second, Marc could feel the increased pull as the other man's fists tightened even more on his jacket. Then he was hauled around and shoved hard in a dizzying whirl, too fast to stop it. His shoulder connected painfully with the dumpster before he went down, barely bringing his hands up in time to protect his face from hitting the pavement.

He rolled around quickly, prepared for further attack, but Marian stood a good three feet away, fists still clenched, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He was breathing hard, lips slightly parted, and for a moment Marc allowed himself to wonder what he might taste like, and how he might sound when he came.

Then Marian jammed his hands into his pockets with much more force than necessary, and stepped past him, heading for the brightly lit entrance of his bar.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll leave," he said in passing, but the steely note of danger was gone from his voice, and he didn't look at Marc.

Marc let his head sink back against the dumpster behind him, belatedly tasting blood where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. He prodded the cut gingerly with the tip of his tongue, sighing as they flashed by his mind's eye like an unlikely trio of candidates in a trite reality show: Deniz, with his resentful dark eyes and those sinful lips drawn back in a snarl; Roman spinning gracefully through the ballet room, drawing in that one breath of air that drew him up close against Marc's chest; and this one, spitfire and danger, with his smell of smoke and guilt and desire.

Unfortunately for him, Marc had never really been the type who went after the things that were good for him.


End file.
